Jill

The cat awoke wide-eyed and looked toward the door. I turned at the whine and looked for the dog in the window. She would be on the outside looking in, stretched to full length. A swivel of the head would command admittance. I could smell her; feel her cold fur beneath my hand. My eyes focused on the empty frame. She was dead. How many months now? I turned to my father to continue our conversation. He was gone.